


Orange Lilies

by ive_been_losing_sleep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kuroo has piercings, M/M, Suga is a matchmaker angel, and I'm a sucker for this trope, and tattoos, florist and tattoo artist trope, florist!Hina, he's really hot aight?, it's a classic, misuse of flower language, tattoo artist!Kuroo, who just wants his fifty dollars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ive_been_losing_sleep/pseuds/ive_been_losing_sleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouyou might’ve had a thing for tattoos and piercings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo enjoy some KuroHina
> 
> (this is one of my favorite tropes, be prepared for more in the future a'ight?)

Suga was going to kill him. 

First day on the job and he’d already royally fucked up, way to go, Shouyou. That flower pot had been really, really expensive, and now its shards were scattered across the tiled floor of Karauno Flowers. Essentially, his entire paycheck surrounded him, smashed into tiny, broken pieces. 

And this asshole was to blame.

He tore his gaze from the pottery at his feet (goodbye, sweet paycheck, you were a nice thought while you lasted) to glare angrily at the man who had so rudely bumped into him and sent the pot careening to the floor. And, yeah, Shouyou’s angry gaze can be compared to an upset Pomeranian’s, but he was really set on giving this jerk a piece of his mind. 

At least, that was his plan until he saw how unbelievably hot the stranger was. With black, ruffled hair that fell across the right side of his face, and dark eyes that looked like they were hiding some unimaginable secret, the man’s features stopped any of Shouyou’s words in his throat. The skin that wasn’t hidden by his red shirt was covered in tattoos; tribal, kanji and what looked like the shadowed silhouette of a cat winding around his left bicep. Two piercings glinted beneath the left corner of his lower lip (what were those called? Bug bites?) and two metal balls were placed along the slope of his right eye brow. 

Shit, he was hot.

And Shouyou might’ve had a thing for tattoos and piercings. 

Everything about this man screamed bad-ass. And Shouyou might have fallen for it if it weren’t for the comically horrified expression Tattoo Dude wore as he stared at the shattered ceramic at their feet. Still, Shouyou wasn’t in the business of trying to fight people who look like they could eat possibly nails for breakfast, so he forwent the insults he had in mind and cleared his throat loudly.

Tattoo Dude’s head whipped up so fast that Shouyou was nearly positive that he heard a bone pop. He took one glance at Shouyou, mouth agape, looked down at the floor again, then went back to Shouyou. He continued flicking his eyes back and forth, words sputtering from his mouth incoherently, almost as if he was watching a really confusing game of tennis. 

Yeah, this guy probably didn’t eat nails for breakfast.

Eventually, the tennis match ended, and he managed to choke out a desperate, “I’m so sorry,” followed by a stream of senseless sounds that were probably supposed to add to the apology.

Shouyou blinked slowly, because shit, he also had a thing for awkward dorks. And despite his appearance, this man was kind of acting like an awkward dork. If the guy had the talk to match his heavily-tattooed walk, Shouyou would be hiding his fear behind raised fists and a stuttered (but still threatening), “You wanna fight?” But it was evident that no, Tattoo Dude definitely did not want to fight, so Shouyou decided to go easy on the poor soul. 

“It’s fine. I’ll just get a broom and clean this up.” Even though it really was not fine; a broom might have been able to clean up the shards of porcelain, but it wasn’t going to save Shouyou’s poor paycheck. “Except I do have to ask what you’re doing here. We don’t open for another hour, and I’m pretty sure breaking and entering is illegal.” Honestly, he wasn’t too worried about the fact that the man in front of him could be a potential criminal, which could be for any number of reasons; it’s 6 a.m. on a Monday morning, he’s fucking hot for a maybe-robber, or maybe even the fact that Shouyou had just lost his paycheck, so he couldn’t bring himself to bother. 

“I’m not breaking and entering!” Tattoo Dude shouted. Realizing that he sounded a bit too desperate to be considered believable, he blinked and calmly restated, “I promise I’m allowed to be here.” Then, he started fumbling for something in the pockets of his skinny jeans, and Shouyou’s reached toward the shelf behind them, searching for the gardening spade he had set down there earlier. He had seen enough television to know that a criminal searching for something hidden away in a pocket is usually a bad sign. 

Granted, the jeans were probably a bit too tight to hide anything really menacing, with the way they fit tightly against every contour of his muscles and hugged his ass- 

Before Shouyou’s thoughts could stray any farther down a path that should probably never be walked, Tattoo Dude interrupted him with a yell of triumph. He grasped a key in his hands tightly and held it out towards Shouyou, swinging it from his fingertips cockily. “See? Suga gave me a key. He lets me come in here before it opens so I can use the flowers for references.”

Shouyou eyed the key doubtfully, but shrugged and stopped his search for his make-shift weapon (if he was honest with himself, it probably wouldn’t have been that effective during a robbery anyway). “If you say so. Just don’t break anything else.” Then, tearing his eyes away from the hot guy, he spun on his heel in hopes of finding a broom and cleaning up the paycheck-killer at his feet. 

Before he could really get anywhere though, Tattoo Dude spoke up. “You’re not Suga.”

Confused, Shouyou turned back around to look at him with a raised, are-you-kidding-me-right-now eyebrow. “No? At least not since the last time I looked in a mirror.”

That was some Grade-A sass. Hopefully, Tattoo Dude would get the memo that it was way too early in the morning for Shouyou to be expected to coherently flirt with a really, really attractive man, please come back during business hours when his brain might be able to do its fucking job, and then he can flirt the skinny jeans right off of this guy’s pretty ass.

But Tattoo Dude was unperturbed. He stuck his hands into his pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his feet, grinning charmingly. Shouyou had to restrain himself from swooning, because holy hell this man was hot. “Are you new here? First day?”

Shaking himself out of his dreamy stupor (lusting after a customer _and_ breaking something on the first day of the job, he won’t be getting employee of the month anytime soon), Shouyou forced himself to nod his head. “And I’ve already broken something, so I really should clean this up.” In actuality, he just needed a minute to calm himself down and get his scattered thoughts back in line, and the search for a broom gave him the perfect opportunity. 

Maybe if Shouyou can get away from Tattoo Dude for a little while, he can come back with a clear head and several top-notch pick up lines. Maybe he could walk away from this whole fiasco with a phone number to make up for his dearly departed paycheck. 

“Let me help you.”

Well, there goes that plan.

“Uh, if you want to.” Shouyou just had to come up with some really good pick-up lines a little sooner than expected, that was manageable. 

It was just really too bad that he didn’t do that well under pressure. Never mind the fact that his brain was only running on fumes provided by his morning cup of coffee. 

Shit, he was screwed. There was no way he would be able to properly flirt with this man. A real shame, too, because Shouyou was definitely into the bad-ass-tattoos-hiding-a-not-so-bad-ass-personality type. Why did the world hate him?

Begrudgingly, Shouyou stalked to the back room with Tattoo Dude trailing behind. Returning with a broom clasped in his hand and a dust pan in the other man’s, they set to work on sweeping up the shards scattered across the ground in silence. Normally, Shouyou would’ve been bouncing in excited conversation, but not even he could be that energetic at the ass-crack of dawn, so he resigned himself to working with Tattoo Dude in a stifling, awkward silence.

First he ruins his dreams of a paycheck, and now he can’t even muster the energy to get a hot guy’s number. Today really is not his day.

When all of the shattered pieces of porcelain (Shouyou was positive they were symbolic ofhis happiness) were safely deposited into the trash bin, Shouyou expected that to be the end of everything. He would return to watering the dumb chrysanthemums, and Tattoo Dude would stroll out of the shop, taking all of Shouyou’s dreams of having an attractive boyfriend along with him. 

Except Tattoo Dude didn’t leave, and Shouyou’s dreams remained intact (for now). He pulled himself up to sit on top of the cashier counter and grinned. 

Shouyou takes back what he said earlier about this man being awkward. There was no way he didn’t know the kind of power that smirk held. 

“So, Shrimpy,” Tattoo Dude starts, and Shouyou had to resist the urge to squawk indignantly. His name was right there, engraved onto a fancy metal name tag fastened securely over his green apron. How hard was it to read? “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well, first of all, my name is Hinata Shouyou, not _Shrimpy_ ,” he hissed, pointing at his name tag for emphasis. Tattoo Dude’s smirk just grew wider and propped up his head with one hand. Shouyou huffed. Why did everyone insist on giving him such ridiculous nicknames? He was almost 170 centimeters! “And I work at a flower shop. Well,” he paused to glare at the trash can that held the shards of the flower pot, “hopefully, I still work at a flower shop after today.”

Tattoo Dude’s eyes followed Shouyou’s and his face fell. “I really am sorry about that.” He glanced back at Shouyou apologetically, and the red head was (once again) struck with how attractive this man was. His dark tattoos almost glowed in contrast to his skin, and some of them even appeared to be moving along his body with every twitch of muscles. The piercings beneath his lip shone under the artificial lights of the flower shop, flickering along with the two placed along his eyebrow. His hair, that Shouyou initially thought to be a deep black, reflected dark shades of burgundy similar to the black dahlias near the back of the shop, and Shouyou wondered if he dyed it to get that effect. 

But the most attractive thing about him was how sincerely apologetic he looked. Because Shouyou might’ve found people who looked like assholes to be physically attractive, but someone actually being an asshole was a significant turn off to him. With every genuine apology, this man was looking more and more like Hinata Shouyou’s ideal boyfriend.

And he’d be damned if he let this slip through his fingers. 

The beginning of Shouyou’s day didn’t start off well, but maybe the rest of the day could turn out alright. Who cared if his brain was only functioning at 12% capacity? It wasn’t like it worked any better when he was fully awake. 

Set on his mission, Shouyou squared his shoulders and smiled dashingly. “You haven’t even told me your name yet, and you already want me to tell you about myself? How impolite.”

The guilty look vanished and was replaced by a confident smile. He held out his hand, and as Shouyou reached to take it, he noticed the tiny outline of a paw print on his pinky finger. “Kuroo Tetsurou. I work across the street.”

Shouyou raised an eyebrow. “You work at Victoria’s Secret?” That wasn’t quite what he was expecting. 

Tetsurou snorted (shit, that was attractive, too) and shook his head. “The tattoo parlor next door, Nekoma.”

Yeah, that made much more sense. 

“You’re a tattoo artist, then?” Shouyou looped around the back of the counter while he talked, crouching to pick up some scissors and a group of roses that needed to be trimmed for a bouquet. 

Tetsurou spun on his butt so he could continue facing Shouyou. “Yeah, I own the place, too.” He jerked a thumb towards his chest and grinned proudly. Shouyou suddenly felt a little incompetent in comparison; the man in front of him was already running his own business, and here he was at his first (and maybe last) day working as a florist at his friend’s flower shop.

Not exactly the picture of success. 

Realizing that he was snipping the roses a little harshly, Shouyou set down the scissors and reached for a glass vase behind him. As he placed the flowers into their arrangement, Kuroo peered over and asked, “What’s the symbolic meaning for roses?”

Shouyou frowned. “What?”

“People come into the parlor all the time wanting certain flowers for tattoos.” Suddenly, Tetsurou’s voice rose an octave. “ _This one symbolizes peace and prosperity. I want this flower to represent the love for my cat. This one reminds me of that one time I went hiking a decade ago._ ” Shouyou snickered quietly, and Tetsurou grinned in response. “I was just wondering what the big deal was.”

“There’s a kind of flower language,” Shouyou explained as he filled in the spaces between the roses with white waxflowers. Most of his lessons with Suga had gone in one ear and out the other, but at least he remembered this much. “Roses can have lots of different meanings depending on the color.”

Tetsurou rested his elbows on his thighs and dropped his chin into his hands. His eyes stared into Shouyou’s earnestly, and Shouyou had to fight down the blush creeping up his neck. “What do the red roses mean?”

Fuck, if only Shouyou had actually paid attention during Suga’s lessons. 

“Uh,” Shouyou started while his brain rushed to come up with some kind of answer. He might know next to nothing about the language of flowers, but he wasn’t about to let this hot guy know that. So, he took his best guess. “They symbolize love and romance.”

Tetsurou nodded and looked over his shoulder. Then, he pointed to a pot of dark purple, almost black tulips. “What about those ones?”

Oh, shit. Was he really going to quiz Shouyou on flower meanings?

Hoping that Tetsurou wouldn’t notice the suffocating grip he had on the vase (he was an awful liar), Shouyou answered, “They’re used for grief and mourning. Like funerals.”

Tetsurou nodded (good, he was buying it) before pointing to some bright orange lilies. “Those?” 

“That, uh,” Shouyou wracked his brain for an answer, “you want to go on a date with someone.” 

Suddenly, Tetsurou grinned, and Shouyou nearly fell over from the sheer attractiveness of it.

“I want a bouquet of those flowers, please.”

“The orange lilies?” Oh great. He wanted to ask someone on a date. Good-bye, potential boyfriend. May you rest peacefully with Shouyou’s pay-check and the rest of his shattered dreams. 

Pushing down his frustration, Shouyou smiled politely. “Planning on asking someone on a date?” 

Tetsurou nodded enthusiastically, and Shouyou forced a strangled, “Good luck.” He tried to make it sound as encouraging as possible, despite the fact that he was dying inside. 

Today was just not his day.

Shouyou put together the bouquet in silence. He’d spent all of his enthusiasm on Tetsurou and it was all for nought. He really didn’t feel the need to bother with a chipper attitude when his insides felt like they had been stabbed with a plastic spork. 

“Do you have any flowers that mean ‘I think you’re cute’?” Tetsurou’s face was split into an excited grin, and the spork gave another harsh twist in Shouyou’s guts. 

He wanted to scream that _no, they don’t have any flowers that mean that, please just leave right now so I can stew in my misery_. Instead, he continued smiling and said, “Yeah. Do you want me to add them in?”

At Tetsurou’s nod of approval, Shouyou scanned the shop for a nice flower that could reasonably mean ‘I think you’re cute.’ Settling on some fluffy, yellow carnations, he cut their stems and arranged them alongside the orange lilies. 

He hoped that whoever received this bouquet was allergic to flowers. 

He tied the vase with a bright orange bow and handed it over to Tetsurou without making eye contact. Gaze locked on the cash register, Shouyou accepted Tetsurou’s payment, and with one last “Come again soon,” from Shouyou, he walked out of Karasuno Flowers.

 

Tetsurou was pumped. 

His day had been one for the record books. He was able to make his hair look decent for the first time in a long while, he had a client coming in for an intricate tattoo later today which meant more cash money for his wallet, and to top it all off, a really cute guy had started working at the flower shop across the street. 

Tetsurou walked into Nekoma, flipping the sign on the door to read ‘Open’. Setting down the bouquet on a table in the backroom, he grinned.

He was totally going to score a date with Hinata Shouyou. 

 

Suga came into Karasuno Flowers 15 minutes after opening. Shouyou did his best to not look suspicious, but it took his friend all of 2.5 seconds to figure out that he was guilty of something. 

“What did you do?” Suga’s arms were crossed, and his foot was tapping against the tile impatiently. Shouyou suddenly got the clear image of an angry mother who caught her child with their hand in the cookie jar. 

“I may or may not have broken one of the pots from the shipment you received yesterday.”

“From your expression, I’m guessing the ‘may not have’ is merely theoretical.” Shouyou didn’t respond, and Suga sighed. “I’m going to have to take that out of your pay check, you know.”

Shouyou nodded relectantly, and Suga reached over to pat him on the head. “Also, you’re grounded for a month.”

Despite his lost paycheck, Shouyou couldn’t help but laugh. It had long since been a running joke between them that Suga acted more like a mother than a friend, and they brought it up every chance they got. “I guess even the good child has his downfalls every now and then.”

Suga snorted. “You’re not the good one, Hinata. That would have to fall to Yamaguchi.”

Shouyou gasped in mock offense, but he honestly couldn’t be too insulted when it was the honest-to-God truth.

Walking up and down the aisles, Suga began collecting the flowers required for today’s arrangements. “Shouyou, could you grab some pansies for me, please? I think they’re in aisle three.” 

Shouyou nodded and disappeared behind a shelf of assorted flowers. 

“Did Kuroo come in this morning?” Suga asked as he carried the armful of flowers to to the back counter.

Shouyou was glad that the tulips he was standing behind were hiding him from Suga’s view point. He would definitely tease him about his disappointed pout and the blush spreading across his cheeks. Even though he wanted to go off on a frustrated rant about how _I’ll be single forever, might as well buy me a cat now, Suga, I’m going to be a male cat-lady_ , he responded with a nonchalant, “Yeah.” 

Suga froze, scissors suspended in the air and one hand poised to pick up a rose. “My mom sense is tingling,” he said. Shouyou poked his head from around the shelf, and immediately regretted it because of the sturdy, inquisitive stare Suga pinned him with. “What happened?”

Shouyou sighed (damn the mom sense), and reluctantly slunk away from his hiding spot to stand in front of Suga. 

He stayed silent for a while, eyes cast down and teeth gnawing on his bottom lip, but Suga’s gaze eventually became too heavy to withstand. Snapping like a frozen rubber band, Shouyou blurted, “He was really, really hot, okay?!”

Suga looked startled for a moment, but all traces of surprise were soon washed away by the wide grin that overtook his face. He hopped once, then punched the air with his fist. “I knew it! I knew you and him were going to hit it off. Daichi owes me fifty dollars.”

Shouyou wanted to comment on the fact that Suga had bet on something like that, but he was already swept away in the tremulous white water that was his relationship struggles. “At least I tried to hit it off. There was no contact with the ball, though. Swing and a miss.”

Suga frowned. “You struck out?” A little part of Shouyou swelled at the surprise in his friend’s voice; at least Suga had some faith in his charm. Then, Suga added on, “I thought I finally found someone that could put up with you,” and Shouyou deflated like a balloon. 

“I thought mothers were supposed to be supportive,” he muttered under his breath, but he was too disappointed to say it with any malice. 

Suga just smiled sadly. “Was there a reason it didn’t work out?”

Shouyou groaned and draped himself over the tabletop wearily. “He bought some flowers. Said he wanted to ask someone out on date.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Shou.” Suga ruffles his hair sympathetically. “The next time a find a nice, heavily tattooed man, I’ll be sure to try again.”

Shouyou lifted his head and sniffed. “You’re a good mom.”

“I know. Now start cutting some tulips. Bokuto forgot his anniversary again, and these are the closest things he’s got to an apology.”

 

By the time his lunch break rolled around, any of Tetsurou’s confidence had evaporated. He had been planning to strut right into Karasuno as soon as his break started and present the beautiful bouquet to the even more beautiful florist. Then, he expected phone numbers, hand holding and lots of kissing. 

He had high hopes. 

Unfortunately, those dreams becoming reality seemed to be even more ridiculous as time went on. What was he thinking? Tetsurou couldn’t just walk in and ask such a beautiful soul to go out with a punk like himself. This is something that requires serious tact, something that Tetsurou severely lacks. 

Not to mention that, despite the strong start to the day he had this morning, everything’s gone to complete shit since he opened the parlor. Yaku, one of his strongest artists called in sick, so Tetsurou had to take on his clients; the man who wanted a full sleeve done on his arm wimped out at the last minute; and Lev had tripped and spilled tattoo ink all over Tetsurou’s brand new shirt. If the rest of the day was going to follow the same pattern, he decided it would be best to ask the cute florist on a date some other day.

The bell above the door chimed while Tetsurou was finishing up with his final client before his break. Cussing internally, he turned to greet the newcomer and prayed that they were looking to get a piercing and not a tattoo; then, he could send them off to Kenma, and Tetsurou can go and get something to eat from Bokuto’s restaurant. 

To his surprise, it was Suga standing in the doorway. The florist smiled brightly and lifted the plastic bag in his hand. The word ‘Fukurodani’ was emblazoned across the front of it, and Tetsurou’s mouth watered at the thought of whatever food was in that bag. 

Bless this beautiful, beautiful man. 

He finalized the client’s tattoo with renewed enthusiasm, energy restored at the prospect of the takeout Suga had brought him. After telling the woman how to properly care for it, he practically pushed her out the door, rushing to grab the bag from Suga and disappear into the backroom with his food.

“No thank you?” Suga snickered, trailing behind the tattoo artist. 

Plopping down into a plastic chair, Tetsurou immediately started shoving the sandwich into his mouth. “You,” he paused to swallow the food resting on his tongue, “are an angel.”

Suga waved him off, but his eyes were distracted by the bouquet sitting on the counter. “Did you buy that from Karasuno?” At Tetsurou’s nod (it would’ve been impossible to speak with all of the food in his mouth), Suga’s brow furrowed, and he asked, “Who are you planning on giving those to? Shouyou said you wanted to ask someone on a date.”

Tetsurou nodded, but before he could explain _who_ he was planning to ask out, Suga pointed at the flowers urgently and shouted, “You can’t ask someone out on a date with those!”

“What? Why?”

“That’s- it’s-” Suga was sputtering now, words becoming nothing but vague noises. Finally, he blurted out, “It’s bad luck! You can’t just give someone flowers that look nice; they have to have _meaning_ , Kuroo. Meaning! Or else you’re not going to get anywhere!”

“But they do have meaning,” Tetsurou said defensively. “Shouyou told me that the the orange ones mean ‘I want to go on a date with you,’ and the yellow, floofy ones mean ‘I think you’re cute.’”

“Shouyou told you that?” Suga threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “That kid has no idea what he’s talking about! The only thing he knows about flower language is that it exists!” Suddenly, Suga leaned over the table and shoved his face into Tetsurou’s. “Kuroo,” he started, voice serious and insistent, “those flowers symbolize hate and contempt.”

Kuroo glanced at the offending bouquet and his piercing glinted as his eyebrow lifted. For something representing evil, they were awfully pretty. “So?”

Suga reared back with an offended, guttural noise, as if he’d been physically attacked. “What do you mean ‘so’?! You can’t give flowers of hate to someone you want to have a relationship with! That’s not how it works!”

Tetsurou was a straight-A student in advanced classes; he was smart enough to know when he had lost an argument. “Fine, fine, whatever. I wasn’t going to give him the flowers anyway, I decided.” At Suga’s intrigued glance, he clarified, “I’m a coward when it comes to romance. I’m pretty sure I’ll take one look at him, become overwhelmed by his astounding glory, and turn tail and run. I can’t go through with it.”

The earlier disrespect to flower language forgotten, Suga leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table, a hopeful smile sitting on his lips. “Who were you going to ask out anyway? I didn’t know you liked anyone.”

“I didn’t until today.” And it as like a bomb had dropped. Complete silence from Suga, and then chaos. 

He leaped to his feet, slamming his palms against the table. “Is it Shouyou?” He didn’t even wait for Tetsurou to answer before he fell back into his chair with a relieved sigh. “Oh thank God. Daichi still owes me fifty dollars.” 

Tetsurou kind of wants to comment on the fifty dollar thing, but Suga was already behind him, yanking him out of his seat and patting him down. “Shit, Tetsurou, why can’t you ever look presentable? Is this ink all over your shirt? You’re lucky Shouyou has low standards - don’t tell him I said that - or else you’d be kind of screwed.” Then, he spun Tetsurou around so he could visually assess him with his eyes. Suga’s eyes lingered critically on the tattoo sleeves and his piercings, and Tetsurou was about to make a defensive remark when Suga cut him off. “You’re lucky that I know you’re a respectable young man underneath your appearance.” What was that supposed to mean? “Most mothers wouldn’t allow their children go out with a man who looks like a delinquent who got lost on his way to Coachella.”

Well, that was just rude. 

Then, Suga was shoving the bouquet into Tetsurou’s arms (wasn’t he the one who said it had bad mojo?) and ushering him across the street to Karasuno. It was only then that Tetsurou realized what was going on, and he dug his heels into the pavement. “Wait, you want me to ask him out now? I can’t do that! I haven’t even planned this out yet. How am I supposed-”

With one last shove, Tetsurou is sent stumbling through the door of the flower shop. Suga shouted a quick, “Better figure it out fast,” behind him. Then, the door swung shut, and he was left face to face with the gorgeous Hinata Shouyou. 

“Kuroo?” Shouyou peered behind him and furrowed his eyebrows. “Was that Suga out there, too? Why didn’t he come in?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Tetsurou lied. It was followed by a tense silence that was much too awkward for him to bear, so he blurted, “You know, these flowers don’t mean what you said they mean.”

Shouyou blushed a little bit, and the red tint to his cheeks was honestly really, really fucking cute. “I figured. I’m sorry about that.”

“But,” Tetsurou shoved the bouquet into Shouyou’s hands, letting his fingers linger against the florist’s for a minute longer than was acceptable, “can we just pretend they mean what you said they did?”

Shouyou looked down at the flowers in his hands in confusion, before understanding lit up his eyes. The blush crawled further up his face, and Tetsurou wanted to fall to his knees and thank the heavens that Sugawara Koushi (an actual angel) pushed him into this. He never wanted to miss a moment of Shouyou blushing.

“And you’re giving these to me?" Shouyou clarified, looking back up at Tetsurou with wonder in his eyes. "You’re asking me if I want to go on a date with you?” Tetsurou’s throat closed at the sight of Shouyou with bright eyes and a happy blush, so all he could do was nod vigorously in response. 

Shouyou grinned, and looked around the flower shop. Then, he darted towards a pot of red hibiscus flowers, and returned with one held gently in his hand. Standing on his tip toes (fuck, that was adorable) he stuck the stem of the hibiscus behind Tetsurou’s ear.

“In flower language,” he said between pauses in his laughter, one hand held over his mouth and eyes squinted in glee, “that means ‘yes, I would love to go on a date with you.’”

**Author's Note:**

> Suga does get his 50 dollars from Daichi, it's okay guys
> 
> I CREATED A NEW SERIES!! It's for rare pairs and it's titled Hell (because shipping rare pairs is hell)
> 
> Also some head canons (for my own fic, I'm such a nerd):  
> -Kuroo totally has a genital piercing too. Hina's gonna have some serious fun with that when things get down to business  
> -They eventually get matching tattoos, but decide not to do eachother's names ('cause things change) so they both get a crow and a cat with watercolor behind them  
> -Bokuto and Akaashi run a restaurant, and Bokuto's Suga's number one customer because he likes to buy Akaashi flowers (even when he doesn't forget anniversaries, but he def buys a lot of them for that reason)
> 
> Part 2 will probably happen at some point, if enough people like what I have now so far. I kind of want to write Shouyou getting a tattoo/piercing so that might occur
> 
> Also, feel free to come yell at/with me on tumblr! About my fics, about haikyuu, about a bad day you had, I'm always happy to chat with you all <3
> 
> http://ive-been-losing-sleep.tumblr.com/


End file.
